Dwarves Don't Do Subtle
by Encaitare Skirata
Summary: When you want a job well done, you don't ask a common thief, you don't ask a (most of the time) greedy human, or a stiff-necked lumbering dwarf. You ask and pay for the best. And the best just happens to be: Arothir, the Elven Thief.


I got this idea while I was watching _The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug_ with a friend of mine. We were watching the scene where (spoiler-ish!)the dwarves, while they're in Laketown, tried to steal weapons. She made the comment, "they don't know the meaning of subtle." which gave me this idea.

I also wish to note that the main character, Arothir (my OC), is male. This is written in 1st POV, so there was no need to specify.  
This is my first (published) Fanfiction.

I do not own Lord of the Rings.

* * *

I waited, after all, only fools rush in. I glance at Ithil, the moon waxing high in the night. I think back to my life before this, back when the world was young and simple and I danced until dawn. I hear footsteps above me: the guard. Time to go to work.

I am currently in the large town of Coastlight*, on the island of Tolfalas, this island stands in the Bay of Belfalas, at the mouth of the Anduin. The town is named after the watchtower that burns oil to guide ships to the island coast, where they may dock and resupply as needed. The buildings nearest the shore are made of wood, while the houses above on the cliffs are made of the stone they stand on.

I quietly slip from my perch on the crossbeams that support the underside of the boardwalk and enter the water slowly, not risking large ripples. Though the waves crash on the beach that lies far to my right, the water among the boardwalk stands as still as glass out in the bay. The water chills, and I pray to the stars, my oil-clothe clothes were worth the money. I dislike water and even more I hate wasting good money. I keep my head and hair, my long hair plaited and tucked into the back of my shirt, above the water, again not risking my hair dripping in my mark's house. Gripping the boardwalk and sliding myself along it until I reach the correct house, or to be more accurate the cliff below the house. The house is a two-story building with stone walls, tall windows, and vines growing up the sides of the house and down the cliff face to the water.

I glance around quickly and ease slightly out of the water, gripping the vines. The water slides off my clothes, I glance down at my clothes and smirk slightly. I lift myself out of the water enough to slide my worn leather gloves on, and begin to climb, my elven weight barely moving them. I climb quickly up the vines to the stone fence that lines the border of the house's property above. I raise my head enough to peer over the top of the barrier, searching for the guards, and then slip over the top and land in a crouch. I crouch-walk quickly to the house and start to climb again, using the vines that cover the outside of the house. I reach the second-story window, the one that leads to the study. Though shuttered and locked, I reach into my vest and pull one of my daggers out. The thin blade enough to reach in the crack and pop the latch. I push the window open and pocket the dagger. I then grip the top sill of the window, using my arms, I raise myself enough to slide in, feet first. My boots make no noise as I land. I move quickly to the bookshelf, circumventing a large desk to do so, my elven sight helping in the darkness, knowing exactly where to go. I skim my fingers over the spines of the books until I find what I was searching for, a thick worn-leather book, titled: The Poems of the Lake Dwellers. I pull the book down and open it, flipping the pages quickly.

About two-quarters into the book I find a key, hidden in the hollowed out pages of the rest of the book. 'Bloody Fishmongers,' I think to myself, 'does no one have a respect for literature anymore?' I grab the key and set the book on the desk that sits behind me. I crouch and open the bottom right drawer of the desk, I pull the drawer out completely and set it to the side. I reach into the vacant space left behind by the drawer, and there, built into the floor of the study is a square of wood and iron with a latch and lock. I use the key to unlock the secret compartment and lift the lid.

There lying on a bed of blue velvet, is my target, a gem, an amethyst to be precise. I lift the stone out admiring it. The gem was the size of an apple and the purple shines, even in the dark room, like a field of lavender in the sunlight.

I pocket the gem and replace the lid, lock, drawer, key, and book to their proper places. Erasing the evidence of my being there.

I return to the window glancing down, a guard of unimpressive size stands there. I sigh quietly to myself, 'I truly don't need this right now. It seems I may be a bit late to the meal this evening. ' I watch the guard for a minute. The guard leans his halberd on the side of the house as he pulls a pipe and a small leather bag out of his jerkin pocket and begins to fill his pipe.  
Instead of my going back the way I came: the water route. I quickly move to my second plan of escape: rooftops.

Knowing the guard will be a few seconds longer, as he searches for a match. I step up unto the windowsill, my back to the water and boardwalks below. I crouch, jump, my fingers finding grip on the roof's gutter above me. I pull myself up and over unto the roof of the house. I pause to breathe a sigh of relief as the guard remains oblivious to my actions. I glance one last time to Ithil, shining in her cold light, I then turn to make my escape, my dark clothes helping me melt into the night.

A job well done.

* * *

* Coastlight is not an actual town. But the name of the island and location is canon.


End file.
